


December 2018

by babybrotherdean



Series: 365 challenge: 2018 [12]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 11,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: Collection of 365 ficlets for the month of December.





	1. Three-Hundred Thirty-Five: Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries not to make any noise as he sneaks into Sam’s bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a sad.

Dean tries not to make any noise as he sneaks into Sam’s bedroom. They’re both light sleepers, so he’s extra-careful, bare feet silent against the floor. He holds his breath as he opens and closes the door, then waits a few seconds to see if Sam has been disturbed. It’s the middle of the night; he should be sleeping, if he knows what’s good for him. Convinced that he hasn’t been detected, Dean releases his breath and continues to creep forward until he can crawl under the blankets beside his brother.

He doesn’t do this very often. He tries not to, anyways- it’s embarrassing to get caught, and it’s impossible to avoid Sam in the mornings- but he can’t always help himself. When the stress starts to pile up, and the job gets too heavy, and he can’t close his eyes for fear of what’s waiting for him in the dark, he just-

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is all sleep-slurred, and Dean holds his breath. “You okay?”

Dean considers retreating and banking on Sam thinking the whole encounter was a weird dream. He discards it quickly. “I’m- I’m good, Sammy. Go back to sleep.”

Instead of doing as he’s told, Sam shuffled around until he can get an arm around Dean and haul him in close. Dean doesn’t protest and he doesn’t resist; it’s too comforting, too warm. Already, he’s breathing a little easier as Sam’s light scares away the shadows. “D’you have a nightmare?”

Dean thinks about how many times they’ve been in this exact position, flipped. “No. I’m okay. Seriously.”

Sam probably doesn’t buy it, but they’re both tired, and with everything going on, they need all the sleep they can get. “Alright.” He sighs, and it tickles Dean’s hair. “Night, Dean.”

Dean gives a tiny nod and closes his eyes. He finds Sam’s shirt and curls his fingers in it like a child searching for comfort. Whispers once Sam’s breathing starts to even out, “night, Sammy.”

He doesn’t dream that night, and they don’t talk when they wake up. For that much, Dean is grateful. At least his brother knows when it’s best not to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	2. Three-Hundred Thirty-Six: Jumpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and his sneaky plans.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

Dean almost jumps out of his chair, looking up from pictures of golden puppies to his brother’s face, brow furrowed where he sits on the other side of the table. When had he even come in? “Weird how?”

“Sneaky. Jumpy. Guilty.” Sam squints and leans in a little closer. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Dean coughs. “You’re just listing dwarves. And I’m fine. Seriously. You’re getting paranoid.” Subtly, he closes the tab. Sam already knows better than to go scrubbing through his browser history. “Maybe you’re the one who’s being weird.”

Sam looks entirely unimpressed by that comment. “Right. Well, whenever you decide to tell me what’s going on…” He stand’s from his chair and gives Dean one last imploring look. “You know where to find me.” And with that, he heads off, vaguely in the direction of the library. Dean, admittedly, is grateful.

He returns to his browsing cautiously, as if Sam’s waiting to jump out from behind the door, but all is quiet. More focused now, Dean starts looking at dates and addresses. Ages. Mannerisms. “Ready for adoption” is what most of the websites tell him, and he’s got an increasing list of bookmarks as he tries to find every option and pick the best one for his brother.

He’s determined to do this right. Sam deserves the best, and that’s what Dean intends to find for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	3. Three-Hundred Thirty-Seven: Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had almost forgotten how small Sam used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets de-aged. Just because.

Dean had almost forgotten how small Sam used to be.

Rowena assures him several times over the phone that it’s not a malicious curse. One meant to slow them down, sure, but nothing that’ll do any lasting damage or put Sam’s life in danger. She tells him it’ll wear off in a few days, and that maybe in the meantime, she’ll do them a favour and track down the witch herself. Dean isn’t sure how likely that is, but he’s got other things to worry about right now.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Jack can’t seem to stop staring, and he’s got that squinty-eyed look that he must’ve picked up from Castiel. “He’s so… small.”

Dean huffs and hoists Sam up in his arms once more. He can’t be older than nine at this size; the kid didn’t hit any real growth spurts until high school. “Yeah, well, kids usually are. You’re the special exception. He’s fine, Jack.”

Sam, thankfully, has bought the fact that Dean is his older (much, much older) brother. He hasn’t stopped asking questions except for when Dean set a plate of grilled cheese in front of him, and even now, he’s persistent as he demands answers from the world around him. “I’ve only got one brother, so who’re you?”

Jack tilts his head. “I’m Jack. We’re friends, I promise.”

Sam seems a little suspicious of that fact, so Dean decides to distract him. “Hey, you wanna go see the library we’ve got in here? It’s huge. You might even get lost.”

It works. “Really?” Sam asks, and his eyes go dinner-plate round, and then he’s trying to squirm his way out of Dean’s hold. “Show me! Please?”

“Easy, easy.” The thought of actually letting this tiny version of his brother get lost has Dean worried all over again, so he doesn’t let go. “I’ll take you there. Then we can go see the car, okay?”

It’s enough to satisfy Sam for now, so Dean lets himself breathe again as he turns to head towards the library. Over his shoulder, he speaks to Jack again. “If Rowena calls, come find me, yeah?” Only once he’s got an affirmative nod does he continue, content for the moment that he’s got things under control.

“How’d you get so big?” Sam asks him, not for the first time today. Dean just shakes his head, and Sam sighs dramatically. “You’re like… old now. Like Dad.”

Dean smiles something bittersweet and decides not to think about that too hard. “Yeah. Guess so, kiddo.”

He thinks he can manage this for a few days. It won’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	4. Three-Hundred Thirty-Eight: Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As reluctant as he is to let a nine-year-old wander off alone in their expansive library, Dean eventually lets Sam back onto his own two feet and sets him loose to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More de-aged.

As reluctant as he is to let a nine-year-old wander off alone in their expansive library, Dean eventually lets Sam back onto his own two feet and sets him loose to explore. There’s only the one exit, so it’s not like he can go get himself lost somewhere in the bunker, and he figures his brother won’t have any interest in leaving in the immediate future. Even as a kid, Sam was always interested in books. He should be happy here for a while.

“Dean!” He wants to share his excitement, though, and Dean wanders after him, a faint smile on his face as he follows Sam’s voice. “Dean, there’s- there’s so many books!”

He’s tucked himself away in one of the far-off aisles, hidden in the shadows of the bookshelves as he cranes his head back to look at the top row. They’re up above Dean’s head, but still within his reach, so he leans down to pick his brother up so Sam can get a better look. “Yeah. Lots of really old books, too. Magic books, lore books… all kinds of stuff. You could spend years in this place.”

Sam’s eyes are wide with wonder, and when Dean gets him all good and comfy seated on his shoulders- they used to do this all the time when they were younger, until Sam got too big- Sam’s quick to reach for the books newly within his grasp. “How many?”

“Dunno. Haven’t counted.” Dean glances around, thoughtful. Sam- the older Sam, that is- has been working tirelessly to catalogue everything they’ve got in this place, with special care for the books. He probably knows exactly how many there are and has a reading list all drawn up. “A lot, though. Even more than Bobby, I bet.”

Though it hurts a little to think about Bobby- their Bobby- Sam makes a small noise of amazement that makes it worth the effort. “But he’s got like… all the books!”

“Not all of ‘em.”

Sam goes back to admiring the shelves, and Dean falls quiet, just holding him safely in place. Sam’s little hands are resting on the top of Dean’s head, and everything about this makes him ache for when things used to be simpler. Before there were monsters to fight or apocalypses to stop. Before they were worried about staying alive, back when they could just… be together. Brothers. Friends.

“Can I read one?” Sam pipes up, and he’s got his fingertips touching an old leather spine. “I’m gettin’ good. Really good. Dad said so. And you did, too, before you got big.”

Dean remembers. “Yeah. Take your pick, squirt. We’ve got some comfy chairs in here, too. You’ll love 'em.”

Sam carefully picks out a book about European werewolves, and Dean carries him over to older Sam’s favourite chair. Dean plops down and holds little Sam in his lap and watches as he cracks the book open, full of awe as he starts to very, very carefully turn the pages.

“Can you read to me?” Sam asks before long, and Dean has to swallow down a lump in his throat. “I- I can, but-”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles, and he shifts so he can see the page a little better. “You got it.”

With Sam curled up against his chest, small and trusting, Dean begins to read aloud. Things were better when they were like this all the time, and maybe he can take a tiny bit of comfort out of having it again, at least for the moment.

He just wishes that Sam- the older Sam, the hurt Sam who needs it so badly- was here to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	5. Three-Hundred Thirty-Nine: Mac and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hope you’re hungry, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft things again.

“Hope you’re hungry, kid.”

Dean’s still not used to this. Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table, kicking his legs while he reads the book spread out in front of him, and it’s just like when they were kids. Trade out the industrial bunker kitchen for some skeevy motel room, and-

“Whatcha makin’?”

Dean glances at his tiny brother again before returning his attention to the pot in front of him. It’s certainly nothing fancy, but it’s what they had around and Sam used to love it. “Mac and cheese. Just the regular kind, if that’s okay.”

He gets a cheerful little hum in response and he almost melts on the spot. “I like mac and cheese.”

Dean smiles to himself and goes back to stirring the pot. “I know.”

It’s been almost twelve hours since Sam was hexed in the first place, and besides the obvious, he isn’t showing any side effects. It seems like Rowena was right; they just need to wait this thing out and everything will go back to normal. Sam will be eight feet tall and thirty-five years old and not nearly as excited to dig into a bowl of boxed pasta. As much as Dean misses having his brother around- his Sam, the one he’s has by his side for the past couple of decades- he’s kind of enjoying this, too. It’s a chance to just be a big brother again, and it’s not until not that he’s realized how desperately he missed it.

“Here you go.” Dean sets a heaping bowl of mac and cheese in front of Sam, setting the ketchup bottle within his limited reach, as well. “You want something to drink?”

Sam’s already nudging his book aside, sitting up tall so he can peek into the bowl. It’s endearing, except for how it reminds Dean of being scrapped for food on and off when they were little. They’re past it now, but this version of Sam doesn’t know that yet. “Is there milk?”

“Regular and chocolate.” Dean heads straight to the fridge and grabs both cartons. Just because. “Dealer’s choice.”

Sam looks like the happiest kid in the world as he starts shovelling mac and cheese into his mouth, and Dean sits across from him to just watch. Yeah, he’s definitely enjoying it. Maybe he’ll even dig up a camera before this wears off. He tries to convince himself that it’s for some level of blackmail, but…

Hell. He can’t lie to himself. It’s just too damn appealing to be able to have some pictures of Sam like this, small and happy and captured in high definition.

Yeah. Soon. He’ll get to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	6. Three-Hundred Forty: Caretaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you I’m fine. C'mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft brothers.

“I told you I’m fine. C'mon.”

Dean’s protests are half-hearted, at best. He won’t meet Sam’s eyes, gaze fixed on the pavement at his feet as his brother stands in front of him. They’re pulled over on the side of the road, thirty miles after being attacked by the daeva, and Sam’s insisted on stopping to get them both cleaned up.

“You’re still bleeding.” He’s as stubborn as always, leaning over Dean and working carefully at getting his head bandaged up. It throbs somewhere distant, but Dean doesn’t have the ambition to worry about it right now. “Maybe I should drive.”

“I’m fine.” Dean makes half an attempt to pull away, but Sam stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Look, we need to get going. We don’t know how much time we’ve got, or if those things followed us, or…”

He trails off, and he wonders if Sam can hear what he refuses to say. Maybe Dad will catch up. Maybe they’ll get to be together again, at least for a little longer. No matter what the smart decision was, Dean hates himself for it; for a handful of minutes, they were a family again, but now they’re just-

Sam’s voice is softer when he speaks again. “We’ve got a few minutes. Here.”

He finishes up with Dean’s head, bandage wrapped around it securely. Dean lifts a hand and feels along it with his fingers, finding the painful spot where the cut is. Sam’s still quiet, more tentative than before. “Any better?”

It feels about the same, and it’s not his head that Dean’s worried about. “Yeah. M'good.”

He still doesn’t resist when Sam reaches for the keys. All things considered, he’s exhausted, and though he isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep, it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t get behind the wheel. He shuffles over to the passenger’s side to get himself settled, and Sam takes the driver’s spot, getting the car started to put them back on the road within a couple of minutes.

They’re both quiet for a little while, but Sam’s the one to break the silence, some while later. “We’ll see him again, Dean. You know we will.”

Dean exhales and looks out the window, tracing the dark blur of scenery as they pass it by. He wonders if their father will live long enough for them to be together again, no matter what he and Sam have promised.

“Yeah.” Still, he gives a tiny nod. Doesn’t have the ambition to muster up a smile. “I know.”

He doesn’t fall asleep, but they don’t speak for the next fifty miles. It’s probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. Three-Hundred Forty-One: Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Dean ever learned how to say no to his little brother, is all goes out the window once Sam is a little kid again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still de-aged.

If Dean ever learned how to say no to his little brother, is all goes out the window once Sam is a little kid again. It’s impossible to resist the big eyes, the quivering lower lip, and the tiny stature- it’s the absolute peak of the puppy-dog look- so when Sam asks to take a little field trip, Dean can’t say anything but yes.

Sam’s too little now to sit in the passenger’s seat, but Dean allows it under oath that he’ll behave, and with the private knowledge that they won’t go very far or very fast. There’s a little nature reserve nearby, and that’s where they’re headed, with Sam beaming in shotgun and Dean keeping a careful eye on him as he drives.

“Did Dad give you the car?” Sam asks when they’re almost there, and Dean bites his lip. He’s been tip-toeing around Dad as a whole because this Sam doesn’t know what’s happened to him, under the impression that he’s still alive and just… absent. It’s a familiar scene from their childhood, so of course he would believe it. “Did he get a new one?”

Dean decides to maintain the illusion. “He did, yeah. Big black truck. My baby, though- she’s way better.”

Sam seems to be content with that answer, and soon enough, Dean parks and the topic is abandoned. There’s an untouched forest with a few hiking trails and a nice river- Sam’s dragged him out here more than once, and goes running on his own fairly often- so it seems like a good place to be. Little Sam looks like he agrees, already scrambling to get out of the car as Dean opens his door.

“We can really go?” Sam asks when Dean reaches him, and Dean laughs, scooping him right out of the car and onto his shoulders. Sam laughs and clings to him, already stretching up to see as far as he can. “How far?”

“As far as you want.” Dean smiles, keeping his hand on Sam’s hip as he starts to walk down the path. He wonders, absently, how much time his brother has spent here, and makes a mental note to come by more often. It’s pretty, huh?“

He can feel Sam nod against the top of his head. "Yeah,” he says, soft. “Really pretty. We- we really live in that place?”

“We really do.” Dean softens slightly. “It’s our home. We’ve got our own rooms, a kitchen, the library… tons of stuff you haven’t even seen yet.”

Sam makes a soft sound of wonder, then reaches up to grab a leaf as they pass under a low-hanging tree. He clings to it, showing it to Dean. “Can I keep it?”

Dean needs to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, of course you can.”

He’s never been good at saying no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	8. Three-Hundred Forty-Two: Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his initial suspicion towards a strange face, Sam seems to have grown to like Jack over the past couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> De-aged. Agaaaain.

Despite his initial suspicion towards a strange face, Sam seems to have grown to like Jack over the past couple of days. Jack must like the idea of being a big brother for a little while, too, because he’s always got a grin on his face when they’re in the same room together, and sometimes, Dean likes to just sit back and watch.

They’ve started playing this game that involves Jack picking Sam up under the armpits and swinging him around until they both get dizzy. Even without his grace, Jack seems to have a surprisingly high capacity for it, while Sam dissolves into giggles as he flails his arms around and cheers. Today, they’re in the living room, and Dean’s kicked back on the sofa watching the two of them play while very decidedly pretending he isn’t watching. The TV is on, but Dean doesn’t even know what channel it’s set to.

Jack moves in careful circles with Sam in a firm grip, and they’re both laughing, Sam’s legs swinging out wide with the speed. Even when they start to slow down, they can’t stop, gasping for breath around the laughter right up until Jack manages to stumble them over to the couch, flopping down in a heap.

“You two gonna make it?” Dean asks with a cocked eyebrow, and he’s fighting to keep the smile off his face as Sam tries to get himself upright. He’s too dizzy, evidently, and nearly topples off of Jack and onto the floor until Dean reaches out and grabs him. “Easy, squirt. That’s how kids lose teeth.”

Sam just grins at him, his eyes a little glazed as he sorts himself out. “Can- can we do it again?”

Dean glances towards Jack, catching his breath on the couch. He’s smiling, too, bigger than Dean’s seen him do in a long while. Maybe they all need this, in a way. “How about we just take it easy for a bit, huh? Make sure you’ve both got all your brain cells intact.”

Both of them seem to be content with that, and Sam flops over in his lap once more. Dean watches the both of them for a moment to make sure they’re actually okay, then finds the remote and flips around until he finds a kid’s movie channel. Not always his speed, but he’ll take it happily right now. Sam and Jack are both quickly enraptured, and even Dean finds himself getting caught up with the story. It’s a familiar one- Tarzan, the Disney one- and he settles right down to watch it, happy to have both of them with him.

This isn’t exactly the family he’s used to, but it’s still a damn good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	9. Three-Hundred Forty-Three: Spoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Jensen is trying to start an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft J2 things.

It’s not that Jensen is trying to start an argument. Or that this is much of an argument at all, really. They’re getting ready for bed, the lights are off, the curtains are drawn, and they’re both dressed down to pyjama pants and nothing else, and it kind of just… happens.

“Why are they called spoons, anyway?” Jared asks as the two of them shuffle under the covers. “I mean… spoons don’t cuddle. That’s just a fact.”

Jensen huffs a laugh. “You know, you might have a point there.”

Right away, they’re getting all nestled in together, and Jared’s still talking. “I guess they kinda sit on top of each other though, right? But so do forks. That’s why they stack all nice in the drawer. Why not ‘forking’?”

“Are these the sorts of questions that keep you up at night?” Jensen laughs for real this time and hauls Jared in close until they can fit themselves together; tonight, Jensen curls around Jared’s back and tucks his nose into the back of Jared’s neck. He nudges a leg between Jared’s thighs to make sure they’re as close as they can be, then continues more quietly, mumbled into warm skin. “What’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” Jared gets himself good and comfy, and their fingers link together over his stomach, familiar and cozy. “But- but who wants to be the big spoon all the time? Why not just take turns?”

Another smile. Jensen hugs Jared tighter, just as happy to hold him as he is to be held. As long as they’re together, the details don’t really matter. “I don’t know. People who don’t know what they’re missing.”

They leave it at that, and together, they drift off, slotted together like a pair of puzzle pieces that fit regardless of their orientation. Jensen falls asleep with a smile on his face and his arms firmly wrapped around the man he loves. The specifics of it all don’t really matter on paper- it’s the companionship and the warmth and the comfort that really count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	10. Three-Hundred Forty-Four: Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has always thought the moon was pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moon stuff. Brothers.

Sam has always thought the moon was pretty. It doesn’t get as much glory as the sun does, maybe- certainly doesn’t get enough attention as people hurry to bed as soon as it’s visible in the sky- but maybe that’s one of the best things about it. The moon is more of a secret; more like a mystery that’s waiting to be solved. A present waiting for the people patient enough to discover it- the people good enough to deserve it.

He sees his brother under the silver light of the moon and falls in love all over again, enraptured by the ethereal glow that forms a halo around Dean. He’s not doing anything terribly exciting- they’re just driving, like they always are, Sam sitting shotgun so he’s free to stare- but he’s still beautiful like this. Him and the moon together; a pair of impossibly beautiful things that make Sam’s heart ache to even think about.

“Should probably find somewhere to stop soon,” Dean says absently, and Sam barely manages a nod. “S'getting late.”

Sam almost protests. Mostly, he doesn’t want to bring this picture to an end. Dean’s freckles stand out clear enough to count, his hair still has its near-golden sheen, his skin is painted in alabaster warmth… it’s hard to think about anything that isn’t the perfect creature in front of him, and Sam’s a little overwhelmed.

Dean glances his way, and his eyes are enough to break Sam out of his reverie. The moon doesn’t do anything to distract from them- just brings out the green a little stronger, a little paler than in the sunshine. “You alright?”

Sam clears his throat and nods, as if he isn’t having a crisis about his unfairly gorgeous brother. As if he’s anything but completely enraptured. “Yeah. Yeah, um- just tired. I’m good.”

Dean must be tired, too, because he takes it at face value and looks back to the road. Sam’s left to stare again, and he does exactly that for the next fifteen miles until they come across a motel to shack up for the night. Even once they step out the car, he can’t tear his eyes away, and if Dean notices, then he’s damn good at pretending not to.

Sam can’t decide how he feels about that possibility. This is a little too personal and a little too out-there to share with his brother, no matter how true it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	11. Three-Hundred Forty-Five: Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sit still,” Dean says with all the authority he can muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babies being soft and bath.

“Sit still,” Dean says with all the authority he can muster. It’s hard when he’s elbow-deep in bath water; there are bubbles clinging to his skin and Sam won’t stop giggling. “Sammy, c’mon, I’m gonna get shampoo in your eyes.”

This apparently isn’t enough to compel Sam to stop wiggling around. He’s too little to take a bath all by himself, so Dean’s in charge of taking care of him. He’s trying to wash his brother’s hair- Sam always likes the way the nice shampoo smells, when they can get it- and Sam is making it exceptionally difficult, splashing around and playing with the bubbles.

Okay, so Dean can’t bring himself to be all that mad about it.

“Dean- Dean, look!” Sam gathers up an armful of bubbles and brings them up to his face; a proper beard, white and fluffy. “I’m Santa!”

Dean smiles, despite himself, then reached in for a scoop of bubbles to place on his brother’s head. “And now you’re Santa with a hat.”

That gets Sam giggling all over again, and as he continues his little game of bath-time dress-up, Dean settles against the wall of the tub and watches him with a smile, contributing when he sees an opening. Eventually, Sam does settle down and allow Dean to give him a good scrub, and even though it takes longer than it should, it’s nice. It’s kinda fun.

“All clean,” Sam declares once he scrambles out of the tub and right into the big, white towel that Dean bundles around him. “M’sleepy.”

Dean’s smile goes soft, and he carefully gathers his brother into his arms to carry him out of the bathroom. “Time for bed, Sammy.”

He likes being a big brother. It feels good to be taking care of somebody who loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	12. Three-Hundred Forty-Six: Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “First, you have to get the engine going. See?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and small boys.

“First, you have to get the engine going. See?”

Dean watches with rapt attention, holding Sam close to him as their dad twists the key in the ignition. They’re off at the edge of town in the middle of the afternoon; it’s been a slow few days and they’ve got some time off. One mention of learning how to drive had been enough to get Dean on board, and even though he’s too little to try for himself-

The engine rumbles to life, a sound that Dean associates strictly with comfort and home. He smiles and looks down at his brother, watching as Sam kicks his legs in the passenger footwell. “Okay, start her. Got it. What’s next?”

Dad’s got a small, peaceful smile on his face, and he launches into his explanation for the next few steps. Check the mirrors, put her in drive, foot on the pedal- one foot between both pedals, don’t waste time using both- and then they roll forward just a little bit, enough to make Dean laugh as he tightens his hold on Sam to make sure neither of them go anywhere. They’re not wearing seatbelts- this isn’t a real driving lesson, after all- and even Dad reaches out to steady them, absent-minded.

“See?” he asks with another grin, looking their way as he stops the car again. “Easy. You just have to get the hang of it.”

“Can I try?” Dean asks immediately, even though he knows the answer.

Sam sits up a little taller, suddenly more interested. “Me too!”

Dad laughs and shakes his head, resting back against the seat with his arm along the back of it. “Sorry, boys. Maybe once you’re tall enough to reach the pedals.” He reaches out to ruffle Sam’s hair until Sam shakes out of it. “You’ll learn for real soon, I promise. How else are you guys gonna drive her one day?”

Dean’s eyes widen, and he looks at Sam in excitement. “We could drive her? Really?”

“In a few years, sure.” Dad shrugs, glancing out the window. His cheek twitches like he’s trying to hide a smile. “Might even get another car. Y'know, so one of you could have her.”

Dean feels like he’s died and gone to Heaven, and Sam jumps on it right away. “Really?”

“Really.” Another smile, and then Dad puts his hands on the wheel again. “Go on and get buckled up, boys. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The two of them climb into the back seat and they make for a local diner, everybody in high spirits. Dean’s stuck daydreaming about driving the car one day, and he doesn’t stop smiling one single time that entire afternoon. It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	13. Three-Hundred Forty-Seven: Ponytail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe you should start wearing it up,” Dean muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brothers being all. Teasing. Flirty.

“Maybe you should start wearing it up,” Dean muses. He’s got Sam settled against his chest and can’t help the way he’s playing with his brother’s hair; it’s supremely distracting, all fresh-washed and smelling nice. Soft to the touch, just like it always is. It’s not his fault it’s so tempting. Sam’s fault, maybe. Not that Dean’s upset about it. “It’s getting long enough.”

Sam gives a quiet huff. They’re in bed together, just relaxing before they go to sleep; Sam’s reading a book and Dean’s got the TV on, but he’s not paying it any attention. “I don’t want to wear it up.”

“No?” Dean hums, running his fingers through Sam’s hair and gathering it loosely. “I think you’d look great with a ponytail. Or a manbun.”

A snort, and Sam sets his book down in favour of tipping his head back to look up at Dean. “I’m not going to wear a manbun.”

Dean grins at him. “No? I bet you’d be cute.”

Sam squints at him like he can’t decide if that’s supposed to be a joke or not. “No ponytails, either.”

With a heavy sigh, Dean leans in to kiss his brother’s forehead before sitting back again. He’s still got his fingers in Sam’s hair, intent on touching it until he’s asked to stop. “You’re no fun. You could even do like… little braids or something. Like a viking. But then you’d need to grow a beard, too…”

He continues on, trailing into his own musings about Sam’s potential hairstyles while Sam ignores him and goes back to reading his book. Pretends to, anyways- he sure is looking at it, but he hasn’t turned any pages in a few minutes, and Dean counts it as a victory.

He likes Sam’s hair just fine the way he wears it now, but it’s always fun to tease him a bit. It’s kind of Dean’s job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	14. Three-Hundred Forty-Eight: Hickies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam’s collarbone is already littered with tiny bruises, but Dean can’t help himself anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just. Hickies. Brothers. Oof.

Sam’s collarbone is already littered with tiny bruises, but Dean can’t help himself anymore. He’s addicted to the way his brother’s skin purples, so pretty under the moonlight that slips between the curtains, and with Sam so soft and willing underneath him, he just-

Sam’s breath hitches when Dean’s lips find a clean spot, and shivers when Dean starts to work at it. Slow first, and then harder; sucking that eases into a slow suckle, teeth latching on to make it stick. Dean’s got his hands spanning Sam’s ribcage, delicate like a bird, and he can feel his brother’s heart beating under his fingertips, quick as the tiny breaths he’s managing to take.

“Dean,” Sam whispers, and Dean’s eyes slant up towards him, hesitating. Sam’s hands come to rest in Dean’s hair, tentative as he grips what he can, and he swallows hard before he continues. “What if- what if somebody sees?”

It’s the furthest thing from Dean’s mind right now, but he sits up a little, giving Sam some breathing room. He looks at the mess he’s made of his brother’s chest and shoulders; he’s proud of himself, but there’s a hint of guilt tied in there, too. He doesn’t think these things through the way he should, and Sam’s usually on the receiving end of it.

“Shit,” he mumbles, lifting a hand to brush his fingertips along the gentle curve of bone. Lots of red, lots of purple. Sam’s going to have to be careful with his clothing for a few days. “Sorry, kiddo.”

Sam seems to gather himself a bit more, then sits up. He doesn’t look upset, so that’s something, and then he leans in until their lips brush together, gentle and fleeting. Dean’s able to relax a little bit and he pulls Sam closer, letting the moment stretch on a little longer.

“S'okay,” Sam murmurs into the kiss. Pulling away for breath, he continues, softer. “I like them.”

Dean smiles, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to lean in and kiss Sam all over again, deeper and longer and a little more hungry.

He still feels kind of bad for the marks, but if Sam’s happy… well, that’s always been what matters most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	15. Three-Hundred Forty-Nine: Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… what are we looking for, exactly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft family time.

“So… what are we looking for, exactly?”

“Food.” Dean nods sagely as he pushes the cart down the aisle, Jack trailing at his side as Sam leads the way ahead. “Lots of food. We’re due for a big stock-up, kid.”

Jack squints a bit at that, but nods slowly. “Right. So, like… chocolate?”

“Healthy food.” Sam glances back and gives Dean an unamused look. “We need to get stuff that won’t rot our teeth. Fruits and veggies, Jack.”

The grocery store isn’t very crowded- a calculated decision; it’s Tuesday afternoon and they’ve missed the crowds entirely- so it’s easy to weave through the aisles at their leisure, slowly gathering up everything they need for the next few weeks. Lots of canned foods, stuff that won’t go bad, but Sam makes a point to get them fresh fruits and vegetables, too. Dean tries not to roll his eyes too obviously, though on the inside, he appreciates having the fresh ingredients around the bunker. Jack’s got questions about everything; different foods, different displays, the myriad of breads they walk by at the little bakery, and absolutely everything in between. Dean can’t even bring himself to be annoyed. The kid’s too damn endearing, and kind of reminds him of a much younger Sam.

“What about this?” They’re in the cereal aisle, and while Sam gathers his armful of granola products- Dean wrinkles up his nose in distaste- Jack’s paused by the most tasty varieties. He has a box of Krunch Cookie Crunch in his hand, and he’s looking at it with a deep furrow in his brow. “Are these… cookies?”

Dean shoots a quick look towards his brother- Sam seems to be sufficiently distracted by picking between two brands of oats- and then takes the box from Jack, quickly hiding it in their cart under a bag of oranges. “Don’t tell Sam,” he says lowly, then gives Sam a wink. “He doesn’t have any tastebuds, but this stuff is awesome.”

Jack smiles, excited like a little kid, and Dean’s heart melts a little as Sam returns to them. “Ready to go?” Sam asks, and Dean just nods, happy to push the cart towards the checkout so they can get going. All the way back, Jack’s got the big, happy grin on his face, and Dean can’t help but feel just a little bit pleased with himself. The kid’s gotta have some fun sooner or later, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	16. Three-Hundred Fifty: Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment he’s been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean. Michael. Ouch.

This is the moment he’s been waiting for. The spear is his hands, almost vibrating with its mystic energy, and Michael is cornered. Nowhere to run, no tricks left up his sleeve, blade to his throat and waiting. Waiting for Dean to end this. This is his moment; his time to take revenge for what the winged bastard put him through; for all the damage he’s done and all the hurt he’s caused. For Jack, for Mom, for everybody in that other world.

So why won’t his muscles obey him anymore?

There’s a faint smile on Michael’s borrowed face, and he stays exactly where he is. Behind Dean, Sam’s speaking, saying his name. Once, twice, a third time. Inside of Dean’s head, things are suddenly very, very noisy. Sounds and images, flashes of memory, words whispered to his own subconscious-

_you’re mine_

-and there’s suddenly too much, too loud, something pressing hard and fast and insistent, slipping in through some infinitesimal crack and-

Maybe one trick left.

There’s white light everywhere, and then nothing. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	17. Three-Hundred Fifty-One: Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam looks like he’s struggling to keep a straight face as Dean cradles his hand, his focus intent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kisses and stuff.

Sam looks like he’s struggling to keep a straight face as Dean cradles his hand, his focus intent. He’s got a goal in mind and damn if he won’t achieve it; it’s about time he gave Sam some of the attention he deserves.

“You’re being weird,” Sam tells him, but Dean’s only half-listening, leaning in to press his lips to the back of Sam’s knuckles. To his pinkie finger, then the ring, all the way over to the thumb, taking his sweet time with it. His wrist is next, lingering at the bone and nibbling gently. When Sam speaks again, it’s with a little bit less conviction. “C'mon.”

“Shut up,” Dean mumbles against Sam’s skin, because he’s concentrating and Sam’s relaxing under his touch, anyways. He lingers where he is for a moment- he can feel Sam’s pulse here, and counts one-two-three-four beats- before continuing on his way. Up from the wrist, he starts kissing his way up Sam’s arm, following the lines of prominent veins on his way up. He flips Sam’s arm over to find the inside of his elbow; the skin is soft and he can feel the flex of muscle just below the skin’s surface.

By now, Sam’s breathing has gone a little funny, and Dean relishes in it. Almost circles back to feel his heartbeat again but he’ll get it soon; next is up towards his bicep, more paths to trace and muscles to nibble at. Sam’s already filling out nice, even if he retains some lankiness from his teenage years, and Dean loves every single inch of his brother.

“Dean,” Sam tries again, softer. “Why’re-”

“Hold on.” Dean’s gentle this time, because he’s made it to Sam’s bare shoulder now and the next stop is his throat. There it is; the steady thumping of the thing that keeps Sam alive every single day, and Dean takes the moment to appreciate the job it’s done. Up a little further, towards Sam’s jaw where he no longer clings to the old baby fat, and finally, his lips, and-

The kiss is sweet; dry and chaste and just long enough to make Dean wish for more. Sam comes away with a little hitch of breath, but he presses in close again immediately after; the two of them dissolve into a long exchange of affection, and Dean fumbles for his brother’s hand to link their fingers together and hold on tight.

Sam deserves so much more in this world, but Dean does what’s in his power to show him the sort of love he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	18. Three-Hundred Fifty-Two: Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A door left open._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael stuff. Sam. Ouch.

_A door left open._

Beyond Michael, beyond the danger of the widespread monster invasion, even beyond losing Dean- those words spark a deep, primal fear inside of Sam. They spark the memory of somebody else living inside his mind; of somebody who never belonged there digging in their claws and claiming it as their own. Fears of that somebody  _leaving a door open._

Lucifer is dead. Dean and Michael killed him; Sam watched his grace burn out of existence months ago, but with this possibility on the table- with the horrifying reality that there could be some kind of loophole to consent-

Sam almost blurs out of his head altogether. Michael’s still there, wearing Dean’s body, lifting his hand to make a gesture, but it’s like he’s moving in slow motion. All of them are underwater as Sam’s mind races to comprehend how unsafe he suddenly feels. How vulnerable.

_A door._

Sam could’ve killed Lucifer himself and this would still haunt him. Every part of his body feels  _wrong_ and he can’t breathe through this. Not with everything falling apart so quickly.

He just wishes beyond everything else that there was some way to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	19. Three-Hundred Fifty-Three: Meteor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean curses quietly as they get settled down, scooting right up close to Sam on their little blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cozy brothers.

Dean curses quietly as they get settled down, scooting right up close to Sam on their little blanket. They’re outside for God knows what reason, a thick layer of snow under them and the moon and stars shining overhead. Even bundled up as he is, Dean’s shivering, and he’s not shy about trying to steal his brother’s body heat.

Sam offers him the thermos of coffee and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be worth it. Promise.”

“Worth it,” Dean grumbles, unconvinced. Admittedly, it’s a nice spot; a clearing not far from the bunker that gives them an unobstructed view of the sky overhead and far enough from the road that noise is minimal. “Why are we here?”

Right as he asks, he spots movement in the corner of his eye- it’s hard to identify, and by the time he turns his head, it’s gone, and he frowns. Already Sam’s responding, the words coming out in a puff of white smoke. “Meteor shower. Look, it’s starting.”

As promised, another streak of movement enters Dean’s line of sight- a brilliant, silvery glow that paints a line across the sky before vanishing again. He makes a small sound of surprise, tightening his grip on the thermos, then strains his eyes searching for more. “Wow.”

Sam laughs at his side and pulls him closer. It doesn’t feel so cold when they’re pressed close like this. “Told you.”

As the minutes tick by, the meteor shower picks up, more of the little streaks of light burning into and out of existence before their eyes. The two of them watch in awed silence, and eventually, they’re leaning into each other more fully, sharing warmth and coffee and this peaceful, quiet moment together.

“Thanks,” Dean says a while later as it starts to finish up, and continues when Sam turns his head. “For, uh- this. Thanks.”

He can hear a smile in Sam’s voice, and he can feel the shape of it when Sam kisses his cheek. “Does that mean I’ve got permission to wake you up in the middle of the night more often?”

Dean snorts because he can’t help himself and jabs a playful elbow into Sam’s ribs. “At your own risk.”

They gather up their things and make the trek back home through the snow, sticking close the whole time and bumping into each other on the way. It’s good. It’s nice to have a little downtime, even if it’s not strictly what Dean is used to.

Granted, he’d accept just about anything as long as his brother was along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	20. Three-Hundred Fifty-Four: Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can feel Dean’s eyes on him while he works, meticulously checking and re-checking every step he follows from the old spellbook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil bit of witchy Sam.

Sam can feel Dean’s eyes on him while he works, meticulously checking and re-checking every step he follows from the old spellbook. A pinch of this, a drop of that- it’s hypnotic and cathartic, and he finds himself mouthing the instructions as he goes, eyes occasionally flickering down to glance at the spell he’ll need to recite when he’s done. He’s getting better at this.

“You sure this is alright?” Dean, on the other hand, still sounds nervous. Even after years of dabbling in witchcraft, he gets twitchy about it to this day. Sam finds it a little endearing; as long as Dean lets him do his work, he’s fine with the nerves.“Like- what are we doing, again?”

“Tracking spell.” Sam drops a bit of powder into the bowl and smiles when it puffs a cloud of smoke at him. “Rowena’s done it for us a million times before. I just wanted to try it for myself.”

“Right.” Dean falls quiet for a moment, long enough that Sam can finish off the mixing and quietly recite the spell. Just like he’s seen every time the spell has been performed for them, once he’s finished with the words, the map he’s set out starts to burn away- narrowing down the location of a nasty demon they’re trying to find. He smiles.

“See? Got it.” Sam straightens up and glances at his brother, smile growing when he sees the surprise on Dean’s face. “What?”

Dean blinks, looking from the map to Sam and back again before finally responding. “That’s… pretty cool. That you can do that.”

A little bit of pride glows in Sam’s chest. It’s something he’s been working on, and- hell, if Dean can get on board with it, then it’s full-steam ahead. “Yeah. Kinda cool.”

Dean cracks a smile, and then they’re moving on, packing up their things to head on out after the demon. Sam’s still got a smile on his face, and he’s entirely content with the progress he’s making. It feels good to have something of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	21. Three-Hundred Fifty-Five: Snuggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might be a little too big to get away with this, but Sam’s perfectly content to let it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuddly bros.

They might be a little too big to get away with this, but Sam’s perfectly content to let it happen. He’s nestled against his brother’s chest, the two of them stretched out on the couch together with Dean’s arms loosely around his middle. Sam’s got a book balanced between his knees, and he can’t quite tell whether or not Dean is reading it with him, but he decides it doesn’t really matter.

Dean, for his part, seems to be putting most of his focus into keeping himself awake and nuzzling into the curve of Sam’s neck. He’s always more affectionate when he’s sleepy, and right now, he seems to be very, very close to dozing off. Sam can’t blame him; it’s cozy and comfortable here, and with the rain falling outside the motel room and the oversized hoodie Sam’s stolen from his brother’s suitcase, even he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“The bed might be more comfortable,” Sam offers quietly as he turns the page. Dean hums in his ear, and it’s hard not to smile. “If you want to take nap.”

“M'good.” If anything, Dean seems to settle even deeper into the spot he’s made for himself, pulling Sam closer to him. They’re resting flush against each other, and Sam can feel the rise and fall of Dean’s chest as he breathes. “Don’t wanna move.”

That’s fair enough. Sam smiles to himself and goes back to reading his book, trying to be subtle about snuggling a little more against Dean’s chest. Dean’s arms tighten around him, so he probably didn’t succeed, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a quiet, peaceful afternoon they get to spend together, and that’s the only thing Sam cares about right now.

(Even when Dean falls asleep and drools a little on his shoulder. It’s just another part of their day.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	22. Three-Hundred Fifty-Six: Homemade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kitchen is a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome family Christmas.

The kitchen is a disaster. Popcorn is scattered in bowls and on the floor, fishing wire is tangled haphazardly around chair legs, and all three of them are gathered around the little table, knees bumping together as they work. Dean watches Jack wince for the dozenth time as he pricks his finger with the needle again and sighs. “Why are we doing this?”

Jack looks up from his work- oblivious or unconcerned by the drop of blood that’s welled up on his finger- and he looks entirely too serious. “For Christmas. We have to decorate, right?”

Dean looks towards his brother for help, but Sam just shrugs, occupied by his own string of popcorn. They’ve been watching old Christmas specials and Jack had lit up at the idea of making their own decorations, and… hell. Dean didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Yeah, we do,” he sighs, and admittedly, it’s hard not to smile when Jack’s face lights up all over again. “Just be careful with the needle, okay?”

Jack nods dutifully and they go back to their work, making their own handmade decorations for the upcoming holiday. Jack’s already got himself a list, Dean knows- paper snowflakes, the popcorn, and a myriad of other ideas- and they’re definitely going to be busy over the next few days.

“Can we eat these when Christmas is over?” Jack asks out of nowhere, and Dean snorts our a laugh. “I mean- it’s food.”

“You’re welcome to try, kid.” Dean reaches out to one of the popcorn bowls and grabs a few pieces to eat for himself. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Glancing at his little family gathered around the table, Dean has to admit that maybe this is kind of fun. Just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	23. Three-Hundred Fifty-Seven: Stocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Up, Mommy! Up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Dean.

“Up, Mommy! Up!”

Dean holds his hands up expectantly until his mom laughs and reaches down to scoop him up off the ground. She’s wearing a Santa hat that matches the tiny one on Dean’s own head, and she’s smiling, soft and happy. “What is it, baby?”

Dean points towards the fireplace where they always hang their stockings. There’s one up for him, matching ones for Mommy and Daddy, and an empty space between them. “Sammy needs a sock,” he declares. His baby brother is asleep in the other room- that’s pretty much all he ever does- but Dean’s positive he’ll be sad if he doesn’t get a stocking. “For Chris'mas!”

Mommy hums, then carries Dean over towards the half-unpacked box of decorations. She crouches down, still holding Dean, and helps him lean over to see. “There should be a few more in there. You want to find one for him?”

Before she finishes, Dean’s already diving in, elbow-deep in decorations as he sifts through the pile in search of something appropriate for Sammy. He goes past sparkly tinsel, old baubles, and a couple of stockings he doesn’t like before finding one right at the bottom of the box- sparkly red and barely as long as his forearm. He pulls it out, triumphant, and presents it to his mom.

“For Sammy,” he says with as much authority as he can muster. He sticks his free hand inside and wiggles his fingers around to make sure it’s big enough for presents. “It’s pretty!”

Mommy laughs again, but she’s nodding, and she stands up once more to bring him back over to the mantle. She hoists Dean right up until he’s in front of the empty space. “Want to hang it up for him, sweetheart?”

Dean nods and does exactly that, tongue poking out in concentration as she helps to guide his hand. Soon enough, the little stocking is hung up along with the others, and it’s perfect; their family is complete, and Christmas is saved.

“For Sammy.” He repeats the words quietly to himself before snuggling up close to his mom again. “‘Cause he’s little.”

He’s rewarded with a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and Mommy brings him to visit his baby brother in the crib. Dean tells him all about the little stocking he found, and Sammy makes some babbling noises at him that Dean interprets as pleased.

As long as Sammy likes it, then Dean is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	24. Three-Hundred Fifty-Eight: Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re starting to get cleaned up for the night, everybody heading off to their respective bedrooms when Sam notices Jack hasn’t moved from his spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Christmas.

They’re starting to get cleaned up for the night, everybody heading off to their respective bedrooms when Sam notices Jack hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s settled deep into a cushy armchair, legs crossed under him, and he’s staring intently at the fireplace across the room. He doesn’t budge when Sam stares at him for a few seconds, so Sam decides to speak up.

“Hey, uh… Jack?” Jack doesn’t move. “You heading to bed?”

“I’m waiting for Santa.” Jack says it so factually that Sam can only continue to stare. “He’s supposed to come through the chimney,right? On Christmas. Which gives me…” He pauses only long enough to glance down at his watch before resuming his vigil. “Forty-three minutes to wait.”

Despite himself, Sam feels a smile tugging at his lips. He remembers nights of trying to stay up late enough to see Santa come through the door- Dean had told him that’s how it would work, since the motel rooms didn’t have chimneys- and even today after it’s been a little soured, the memory is a fond one. It’s strange being on the other side of this situation, but…

Well, Dean taught him  _something_.

“He won’t come if you wait up for him,” he says, just a hint of teasing in his voice. Jack’s head whips around to look at him. “You need to be asleep. That’s when he delivers the presents, or else the surprise is ruined. Right?”

Jack watches him for a few more seconds, brow furrowed, before he suddenly nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” With another glance down at his watch, he hops up from his chair and starts hurrying towards his bedroom. “That means I’ve only got forty-two minutes to be in bed.”

Sam barely stifles a laugh as Jack rushes past him, a little pleased with himself. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he calls out after Jack, and slowly starts following him down the hallway to get himself ready for bed.

It’s kind of nice, playing pretend for somebody else. It feels good. Maybe this is why Dean kept his imagination going for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	25. Three-Hundred Fifty-Nine: Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With every minute that ticks by, Dean finds it just a little bit harder to keep his eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cozy brothers.

With every minute that ticks by, Dean finds it just a little bit harder to keep his eyes open. It’s not that late, in the grand scheme of things, but as much as he loves Christmas, it’s always tiring, and this year is no different.

After a take-out special of diner-made turkey and fixings, he’s comfortably full, stretched out on the couch with his brother settled on top of him. Sam’s getting lanky, but he’s still small enough that they can get away with this, and Dean takes advantage of the opportunity at every chance he gets. In the corner of the room, a dinky little artificial tree stands, weighed down by a handful of thrift-store decorations that still manage to brighten up the room. The TV is set to the seasonal Yule log channel, crackling away as a gentle background track, and overall, Dean is content.

Sam sighs quietly as he curls in closer, and Dean finally lets his own eyes slip shut. His brother must be almost asleep by now; he’s been quiet for a long while and he’s gone soft to the touch. They don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, so at least they’ll be able to sleep in.

“Sammy?” Dean says quietly, just in case, and he’s rewarded with a soft snuffle, muffled against his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

Sam nods, sleep-mussed, and presses a tiny, chaste kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbles. “Love you.”

Dean smiles to himself and settles a little deeper into his place, heart warm. The weight of the amulet around his neck is a tangible reminder of those very words, and he pulls Sam closer.

“Love you, too.”

Christmas or not, this is always his very favourite way to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	26. Three-Hundred Sixty: Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean. Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Affectionate Sam.

“Dean. Dean.”

Sam keeps his voice lowered to a whisper, but he nudges his brother gently with every repetition of his name. Dean still seems to be fast asleep, and this early in the morning, Sam can’t blame him, but he can’t help himself, either. He’s woken up in a needy state of mind- he blames whatever dream he had that he can’t remember- and Dean’s the only one who can fix it. He’s sure of it.

“Dean?”

Leaning in a little closer, Sam presses a soft kiss to his brother’s jaw. Dean makes a soft sound, but doesn’t quite stir, so Sam gets a little bolder. Another one, two, three tiny kisses lead him to Dean’s lips, and he lingers there for a few seconds, smiling when Dean’s breathing goes a little funny.

“S'mmy?” Dean doesn’t seem to be entirely awake yet, so Sam sits up a little bit, just enough to give him some breathing room. Dean lifts a hand and scrubs at his eyes before managing to pry them open, and- yeah. Yeah, that’s already better; pretty emerald green that’s easy to discern even in the dark motel room. “S'wrong?”

Sam considers how to answer that for a moment, then decides he doesn’t really have any good excuse. It’s nearly five in the morning; they don’t need to be awake for hours, and it doesn’t seem fair to say he was lonely and bored. Not when Dean looks so sleepy. “Um- nothing. Sorry. Just woke up, and…”

He trails off, and Dean watches him, eyes half-lidded. Eventually, Dean just sighs and reaches out to pull Sam closer to him; Sam’s perfectly content to snuggle right up to his chest and get comfy there. “Go back to sleep,” Dean tells him, and he must be halfway there, himself. “S'okay.”

Sam decides he’s perfectly content with this arrangement and nods, closing his eyes again. “Night, Dean.”

Dean mumbles something incoherent in response, and within minutes, his breathing evens out again. Sam’s not far behind him; even with the little disturbance, he’s tired, and the warmth of Dean’s arms around him is plenty of incentive to let himself drift back to sleep. It’s probably for the best, anyways- they both need their rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	27. Three-Hundred Sixty-One: Petting Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fair isn’t very busy, for a weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny boys and bunnies.

The fair isn’t very busy, for a weekend. There are certainly other families roaming around to see the different exhibits, but it isn’t any more congested than usual. Still, Dean’s careful to keep Sam’s hand tight in his own; the last thing he wants is for his little brother to get swept away in the crowd.

“Petting zoo?” Sam asks for the third time in as many minutes, and Dean nods firmly. He’s stretched up on his toes, trying to spot the sign that’ll take them there. “Are they gonna have bunnies?”

Dean considers that for a moment before nodding again. He’s spotted the right place now so they’re moving again, and he keeps Sam close to his side. “Probably. I think they’ve got goats and stuff, too. Maybe little piggies.”

That’s enough to encourage Sam to pick up the pace, and before long, they reach the little lineup that leads into the petting zoo area. There are two small families ahead of them, so they don’t have to wait very long- a good thing, since Sam’s already bouncing with anticipation- and after the attendant gives them a little spiel about the rules, she opens the gate to let them inside, Sam already dashing ahead as Dean keeps a firm grip on his hand.

There are plenty of small animals scattered around the paddock, but Sam spots a closed-off pen with bunnies inside and seems to be entirely single-minded in his hurry to get there.

“You don’t wanna scare them,” Dean reminds him gently, and Sam slows down right away. “You gotta be careful, remember?”

“Careful,” Sam mumbles, and he nods as they reach the little pen. Dean opens it so Sam can slip in ahead of him, and then it’s just them and the bunnies, all looking a little nervous and a little curious as Sam crouches down in front of them. While Dean closes the gate, he watches as Sam holds a hand out, tentative. “Hi, bunnies.”

Dean joins his brother a moment later, sitting quietly by Sam’s side while one of the bunnies- a light grey one, with floppy ears and big eyes- makes a few tiny hops in their direction. Soon, she’s close enough to touch, and Sam reaches out a little farther until his fingertips brush over her back. Dean follows suit and makes a small sound at how soft her fur is.

“Soft,” Sam whispers, echoing that thought, and Dean just nods. “Do you think she has a name?”

“I think you should give her one,” Dean replies, just as quiet. “She likes you.”

Sam doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then hums. “She’s probably already got one,” he decides. “I don’t wanna confuse her.”

They spend a long time in that little pen, petting the bunnies who approach them and talking quietly. It’s a peaceful way to spend the afternoon, and when they walk away, Dean feels all warm and soft inside. It’s really, really nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	28. Three-Hundred Sixty-Two: Turkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How are you not sick of turkey already?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mood.

“How are you not sick of turkey already?”

Dean glances up from his plateful of leftovers towards the incredulous expression on his brother’s face. Back to the food. Back to Sam. He swallows his mouth of mashed potatoes and grins. “Dude, this is like- all the Christmas dinners we’ve missed. All at once.”

Sam sighs heavily, shaking his head as he sits down at the table across from Dean. Despite his apparently irritation, there’s a smile tugging at his lips and a fond look in his eyes. “You figure?”

“Uh-huh.” Dean nods seriously and gestures with his fork with accentuate his point. “See, the whole point of making a giant meal is to have a ton of leftovers. Because that way, when everybody’s lazy after Christmas, nobody has to cook, ‘cause you’ve got like a week’s worth of meals just… hanging out in the fridge. It’s the dream.”

Sam actually laughs that time, sitting back in his chair as the smile breaks through. “I’m still pretty sure it’s not healthy to eat that much turkey in such quick succession.”

“Shush.” Dean waves him off, then pats his own stomach. He’s not in the same shape he was in at twenty, but he can still afford a few extra calories. “Don’t ruin this for me. I just wish we had this like… always.”

“Of course you do.” Sam’s expression has definitely softened now. Despite the front of grumpiness, Dean’s pretty sure his brother has finally broken through his lingering resentment of the holiday season, and it’s a nice thought. “Save some for the rest of us, huh?”

Dean grins as Sam stands up to head out of the room, then goes back to polishing off his meal. Maybe he’ll make something nice for New Years, too. Just to mix things up a little. Just to make his brother smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	29. Three-Hundred Sixty-Three: Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just me, Sammy. Just me, c'mon. Breathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouchie.

“Just me, Sammy. Just me, c'mon. Breathe.”

Dean keeps his voice low and soft, crouching in front of his brother and aching to do something. Sam’s curled up on the floor by the edge of his bed, clutching his head between both hands and trembling. Maybe he had a dream, maybe it was a memory, but whatever it is, it’s put him here, propelled straight into some kind of panic attack and Dean can’t help.

Still, he tries his damnedest. He gets as close as he dares- he doesn’t want to make things even worse- and tries to get a look at his brother’s face. Sam’s got his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted for the shallow breaths he’s struggling for, and it’s all just cause for more concern. “You’ve gotta listen to me, kiddo. You’re safe. I’m right here, and everything’s fine. I need you to try to breathe with me, okay?”

He’s not sure that any of this is getting through to Sam until he gives a single, tiny jerk of his head- just enough of a nod for Dean to decide they’re on the same page. “Good. Ready? Nice and slow. With me.”

Just as Dean starts taking a breath in- slow and deliberate- Sam reaches out with one of his hand, fumbling for Dean’s hand until he can grab on tight. Dean takes it as progress and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Alright, in… and out.”

He loses track of time while they breathe together, but eventually, Sam’s shaking starts to subside. His shoulders lower from where they’d been hunched up, and in tiny increments, he uncurls from the protective ball. When he blinks up at Dean, his eyes are red and wet at the edge, and Dean reaches up unthinkingly to brush the tears away.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. He’s still holding Sam’s hand and won’t let go until Sam does it himself.

“Um… yeah.” Sam clears his throat and nods, looking down at his knees. “I… thanks, Dean.”

Dean just nods, then glances at the clock. 2:37am. “You wanna try sleeping again?”

Sam’s grip on his hand tightens, and he’s quiet for a few seconds. “Can we-?”

“Yeah.” Dean doesn’t hesitate. “C'mon.”

Together, they crawl into Dean’s bed, Sam sticking close and settling himself against Dean’s chest once they’re under the covers. Dean holds him close and rubs his back until he falls asleep, then closes his own eyes and takes a deep breath.

Maybe he can’t protect Sam from his own mind, but at least he can help in this small way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	30. Three-Hundred Sixty-Four: Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, c'mon. Just one dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute brothers.

“Aw, c'mon. Just one dance?”

Dean can’t wipe the grin off his face, just this side of tipsy as he holds a hand out to his brother. It’s just the two of them in the motel room, radio crackling out some old-timey tune that makes him think of black-and-white movies. World wars, forbidden romances, ballroom dancing. Maybe it’s the empty bottles left on the counter that have him in such a jaunty mood, but it’s all physical and he needs to live it, just for a moment. Just one song. Just one dance.

Even though Sam is eyeing him with some level of suspicion- maybe fuelled by the fact that Dean has interrupted his reading; a book for school, he claims- it only takes a couple seconds of hesitation before he gives in, accepting Dean’s hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Do you even know how to-?”

“Not really.” But Dean just smiles and hauls Sam in close, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and holding on tight as Sam’s hands find his shoulders. It’s the classic school dance two-step, a side-to-side that doesn’t leave much room for Jesus. No chaperones tonight. “Doesn’t matter.”

Sam seems to accept that without argument, simply shrugging and going along with the pace Dean sets. The music is soft and steady, a slow dance, and he lets it guide his movements; he sways the both of them as they move in their tiny radius, and when Sam rests his head against Dean’s sternum, Dean decides that this is the best idea he’s ever had. They don’t have a ballroom or a proper band or clothes that aren’t ratty pyjamas, but this feels just as good.

When the song starts to draw to a close, Dean peeks down at his brother, waiting until Sam looks up at him. Without preamble, Dean leans in and closes the distance between their lips; the kiss is soft and sweet and lingers past the final few notes, and only once the radio host starts talking again does Dean let it end. He’s left with a smile, and apparently, it’s contagious.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Dean teases, and Sam almost laughs.

“Not so bad,” he confirms. He seems reluctant to let go, but Dean catches him peeking at his book again. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean leans in for one last kiss before letting Sam go, finding his way back to the couch to settle down and listen to the radio a little longer. He finds himself humming along to the tunes he can recognize, and he keeps one eye on his brother, settled back into his book and looking perfectly content where he sits.

So maybe Dean’s a bit of a romantic. Nothing wrong with that, he decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	31. Three-Hundred Sixty-Five: Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the first New Year's Eve they've spent alone, but Dean still thinks it feels special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some kisses to close out the year.

This isn't the first New Year's Eve they've spent alone, but Dean still thinks it feels special.

Maybe it's because Sam is sixteen years old and always looks at him like he's gone and hung the moon. Maybe it's because they've finally moved past dancing around each other in awkward half-touches and fumbling around sharing a bed. Maybe it's just the night itself- stars outside, the ball drop lined up on TV. The quiet motel room. The lack of space between them on the couch.

Dean's got his arms curled around his brother's shoulders, and Sam isn't shy about resting against him. Still, Dean thinks they're both nervous about this. There's something sacred about a kiss at midnight, right? Something meaningful? They haven't talked about it, but they're both thinking it, and as the countdown ticks closer, he feels his heart beating fast in his chest, setting its own timer.

"Ten seconds, folks. Nine!"

"Eight," Sam whispers at his side, and Dean swallows hard. He sits up a bit, and Sam follows suit- he doesn't pull away, but instead, shifts on the couch until they can face each other properly. Just a few inches between them. "Seven. Six."

Dean takes a deep breath. He can't look at anything but Sam's face; has his brother always been this pretty up close? It's hard to say. "Five. Four. Three..."

"Two."

"One."

On TV, the crowd cheers. Couples embrace. Music swells. It's a new year, a new start for everyone. A clean slate.

In that motel room, on that couch, Dean leans in and kisses his little brother at the stroke of midnight. It lasts for a small eternity, and Sam grips at his shirt, and it's everything magical and hopeful and good he could've thought to hope for. Sam's warm and soft and his and nothing else matters.

When it ends, they don't separate. Not really. Sam whispers, "happy New Year, Dean," and climbs into Dean's lap. Dean wraps his arms tight around his brother, intent on holding him close for as long as he's allowed.

"Happy New Year," he echoes softly, and then they're kissing again and nothing else matters anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


End file.
